


First Contact

by Cyrelia_J



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [10]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Culture Shock, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Languages, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: Both Elim Garak and his lover [now husband] Kelas Parmak were forced into exile on Terok Nor. They've gotten by well enough with a little creative story telling, and now find themselves adapting to the arrival of the Federation on the new Deep Space Nine. Catching word of a young handsome doctor arriving on station makes them both excited about meeting a new friend.Tumblr prompt fill with minor edits/additions: Working towards OT3 where both Garak and his husband Parmak were exiled. How do they both woo Julian?Now with Chapter 2 for another prompt- an OT3 version of The Wire. A comedic take on another way that Garak’s implant may have malfunctioned ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm proud of myself because this is one fill that actually stayed [mostly] true to the intended prompt. Just a bit of silliness and my Bolian OC Ziw Tralar making a cameo here. I have no idea why, but I think I'm developing a thing for Parmak saying silly and half raunchy things while learning English or Federation standard. Thank you all for reading, and enjoy!

“Are you sure it isn’t suppose to be _The_ Fornby Project?” Parmak had asked the question innocently enough to the Bolian completing the set up of goods right outside the entry to the shop. The newcomer had enlisted Parmak’s help in hanging the mysterious beaded curtain leading to the shop inside. That comment unfortunately had put up a wall between their positive interaction following, as the Bolian Ziw Tralar informed him sounding annoyed, that the “ _other_ skinny overly pedantic doctor” had said the same, and they could both very well mind their business. Parmak wasn’t quite sure what other doctor that was until he learned later of a later Federation transfer expected to arrive. Parmak had attempted to apologize for any slight. He’d been trying to work on his Federation Standard starting with the basics and he thought he remembered that words used some sort of “the”, “a”, “an” or something, but  it seemed there was a lot of what Ziw called “artistic license” that he was awfully unfamiliar with.

 

Ziw had given him a measured look when they finally finished - and he’d taxed Parmak’s already bad back with moving an endless convoy of boxes - deciding with a bit of a strange expression, that even if Parmak was apparently just as ill mannered as every other Cardassian he’d ever met, at  least he had the decent to appear contrite. So Ziw gifted him with several books as his way of saying thank you. First and foremost was a book that Ziw assured him was full of useful old Standard greetings that he should take note of. Parmak had discovered to his delight while offering his assistance that the eccentric “Fornby Project” (a few stores down from Garak’s, how convenient!) contained a wide variety of old books in addition to the stores of antiques and eccentric collectibles. The old texts were one of his true loves, though Garak often despaired at the volume of Parmak’s “library”. 

 

Parmak was curious about the new medical team as he later parsed the book of idioms. He knew that the Federation was bringing a medical team per protocol, but he had yet to meet any of them. He didn’t exactly see the need for them, protocols aside. Nurse Jabara too had commented on the Federation thinking they were the only power in the quadrant capable of diplomacy. Parmak laughed as she said it, being that she was currently performing a check up on one of the Starfleet ensigns. The young woman in the Starfleet uniform said nothing in response, holding a neutral expression as they talked over her, awkward as that surely must have been. While Parmak agreed with the sentiment, he had to politely demur. It was the logical assumption that there would be resentment from the Bajorans on station directed towards the two Cardassians, especially a doctor. Still, it would have been nice had anyone thought to _ask_ his patients what they thought.

 

As far as the Bajorans and previous Cardassian occupiers knew, Parmak and Garak were both exiles due to their anti occupation leanings and revolutionary activities. It was a story which allowed them to foster rather positive working relationships with the Bajorans after the takeover. The story may have been true in Parmak’s case, but Garak was only there because he refused flat out to torture his lover even under threat of death. For Garak, death would have been preferable to exile and Enabran Tain knew that. He refused, with that infuriating grin of his, to grant his “favorite operative” a merciful death, instead deciding that if one Nokaran doctor was more important than the State he’d sworn to serve, then the two of them could very well die together as exiles. Garak had quietly accepted that penance, taking every opportunity to regale those on station with their fantastic tales of heroism. In private, he never failed to rail on how irritating it was to hear the constant racial slander always followed by “but of course you and Doctor Parmak are nothing like them.” 

 

“Do you get fries with that shake?” Parmak puzzles over that one in present time, repeating the words, checking his diction against the computer. It’s a Federation System and takes some getting used to, but he and Garak have been adapting. He and Garak have had to adapt to quite a lot over the years.

“Are you still at that?” he hears Garak ask, coming into the room looking particularly well put together. Hmm, it seems Garak too has caught wind of the new Federation Doctor. From some of the gossip around the station that Parmak’s heard, the new Chief Medical Officer Doctor Julian Bashir is a young _handsome_ man with no known attachments. One of his and Garak’s former partners, a dashing and considerate young Bajoran named Teja, was keen to let him know with a suggestive wink that the doctor was definitely “their type”.

 

“Are you an angel? Because you must have fallen from heaven...” Parmak mumbles to himself, repeating the sounds as best as he can. Yes, he absolutely _is_ “still at that”. Thirty six hours from learning of Doctor Bashir, and _finally_ seeing a picture hasn’t been nearly enough time to gain proficiency in a new language, but it absolutely _is_ enough time to try and memorize a few greetings from the old book. It took him just that long to understand the thing they call _romanized_ script well enough to pronounce the words. He’ll leave the definitions for later. Perhaps Doctor Bashir can teach them. Oh now that’s a naughty thought that he’s quite eager to explore later. 

 

“Did you hear that he’s a xenobiologist?” Parmak asks, looking up to Garak with a wicked gleam in his eyes, pushing his glasses back up on his face. Garak snorts as he sits down and neatly plucks the book from Parmak’s hands, idly thumbing through it. “Do you suppose that it ah... has the same implications as it does back home?” That gives Garak pause as he checks to make sure he’s holding the book the proper way.

“You realize Kelas, and forgive me if this sounds uncharitable, that the primary cause of the xenobiology field becoming synonymous with ‘alien fucker’ back home originated solely with you.”

“I think you’re giving me far too much credit, Elim,” Parmak replies, absently toying with the end of his long braid.  He may sit up a little straighter at that regardless, as best as his back will allow. “I noticed _you’re_ wearing one of your new pieces. Were you planning on going somewhere without me?”

 

“I am aware that you have no true appreciation for the craft of subtlety, but being that I do, I thought perhaps a little reconnaissance might be in order.” Garak holds up the book pointing to the shortest phrase on the page. Parmak is still somewhat mystified that Federation Standard has so many types of greetings, and he’s been somewhat at a loss to decide on the best one to use. He usually finds himself hopelessly tongue tied when meeting new people. The Bolian had informed him primly that since he had “all the answers” where Federation Standard was concerned he could very well figure it out for himself. “This is the shortest one so it might be the easiest to recall.”

“Is that supposed to be a slight on my age?” Parmak asks snatching the book back, giving Garak a _smack_ on the knee with it.

 

“I would hardly cache your age as slight,” Garak answers with a tug to Parmak’s long, white, plait of hair, though Parmak’s hair has always been white. That isn’t the point. Parmak pauses, reading that fire in Garak’s expression, trying not to smile. Garak had used to lament that his ability to properly engage in a good bit of flirtatious banter was permanently damaged from all of his off world fraternizing, but Parmak has had a good several years now to work on it with his husband. He gives Garak’s stomach a little poke in return.

“Mmm, we shouldn’t speak then of things that aren’t slight,” he answers, letting the book drop for now. More sweet little lies; Garak is delightfully _thick_ , and Parmak loves it. 

“Then you may want to poke a little lower, Kelas,” comes the answering purr as Parmak does just that.

 

Perhaps there’s a renewed vigor between them as well, when Parmak decides that Garak’s dapper new creation deserves a bit of dishevelment, and they both agree that Doctor Bashir can wait one more day before a proper introduction.

* * *

 

“It’s Doctor Bashir, isn’t it?” Garak asks as soon as he sidles up to the table, Parmak hovering just off to the side. Parmak thinks the young human is at least twice as easy on the eyes as Teja had said. Really, Parmak is surprised that Teja didn’t go after the doctor himself, but Parmak has never been one to question good fortune. He remains smiling politely, sadly not dressed anywhere near as smartly. He’s dressed for his shift later, sort of thinking as soon as the familiar nerves hit him, that asking to tag along may not have been the best idea, as Garak continues. “Of course it is. May I introduce myself?”

 

Parmak notices that the doctor’s eyes get wide, the size of dilated dinner plates, as he looks between the two of them. Oh dear, perhaps Teja had been spreading stories after all. 

“Uh yes... yes of course,” Doctor Bashir answers not looking the least bit excited. Parmak wishes he didn’t look so nervous because it’s making _Parmak_ more nervous, and Garak just soldiers on his usual engaging self. It’s entirely unfair, he thinks, as he tries to recall any of the dozen phrases he’d memorized out of the book the last few days.

 

He notices that Garak is also taking a seat now, taking the lead in this, and taking Parmak into the deep waters where he usually doesn’t tread without much more acclimation. Well really, if Garak had wanted to work alone he could’ve _said_ something. Though knowing Garak as he does, when Parmak recalls the earlier conversation, he realizes that Garak had likely only agreed thinking that his husband wouldn’t actually have the audacity to follow through.

“My name is Garak; Cardassian by birth, obviously. This is my husband Kelas,” comes seemingly as an afterthought, leaving Parmak to shuffle around, push his glasses back up, and try and decide if he ought to steal another chair from somewhere or just sit on Garak’s lap. 

 

“We’re the only two of us left on the station, as a matter of fact. So we appreciate making new friends when we can.” Garak looks up to him now, clearly passing this bit off to him, and he sort of wants to get close enough to step on Garak’s foot, because this is all so sudden, and he doesn’t have half of Garak’s charm or ease of tongue. Doctor Bashir is also still completely ill at ease, which is clearly amusing Garak, but only making Parmak’s empathy fire off like a raid siren, and sort of wish he could just vomit and then hide. Garak is expectant, needling him even further with that wicket serpent’s grin. “Oh come now, my dear Kelas, don’t be so shy. I know you were just _aching_ to introduce yourself to Doctor Bashir without the - what did you call it? - formal trappings of the office?”

 

Garak is radiating smug at that easy lie, and Parmak is going to kill him tonight, doctor’s oath be damned. He clears his throat, sure his smile doesn’t look nearly as coy or practiced as Garak’s as he stammers and tries to remember everything he’d taught himself and picked up from Ziw. 

“Perhaps you might take the opportunity to demonstrate one of the charming little phrases you’ve been working so hard on. You really should hear him, doctor. My Kelas has the delightful dulcet tones of an Andorran songbird.” A songbird who’s going to peck Garak’s eyes out, Parmak decides as his eyes dart everywhere but Julian’s face as he tries to pull something out of that blank page. 

 

By some miracle of the ancients, his eyes catch sight of one of Julian’s black shoes from under the table, bringing forth as Garak had suggested from the outset, the simplest and shortest phrase that he’d memorized so far. Well then, they’re going to see who looks stupid now! Parmak beams at Julian and slams both hands on the table just as Ziw had taught him by way of greeting.

 

“Nice shoes!” Parmak exclaims, hoping that his cadence and tone are at least passable.  “Wanna fuck?”


	2. Wired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now in a relationship, Garak's implant starts acting up...
> 
> ...just a little differently than it did in the show ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in getting a few prompt fills they seemed like a good fit for this universe to be lighthearted so here's one of them which was The Wire done with these three. This got silly but I regret nothing hehe

         “You did what?!” Julian coughs, looking around at the raised eyebrows lowering his voice. Next to him, Parmak takes his glasses off before polishing them absently.

           “It’s ahh… one of those things in Elim’s past that he doesn’t like to talk about,” Parmak murmurs, hinting that the conversation would be better continued in private. Julian isn’t quite sure how they’re going to pull off _that_ feat when Garak is apparently there lying in bed from what Parmak described with a cough and a mumble and an unfortunate accident that he wasn’t quite sure how to correct without Julian’s assistance. Julian had had to drag the information out of his lover - and god, what a wild ride _that’s_ been so far! - which meant that it was likely especially bad since Parmak wasn’t usually the one to obfuscate.

Apparently Garak has some sort of mysterious “spy implant” and apparently he and Parmak had gotten carried away the last time they were playing with it in Julian’s absence. And now it’s “not working properly.”

           Julian finds Garak lying on the couch back in their shared quarters grimacing in what appears to be pain as he clicks his tongue at the both of them and kneels down next to Garak. It doesn’t look good from the outset, he thinks, pulling his tricorder out running an initial diagnostic.The sweat concerns him, Cardassians usually not perspiring unless the conditions are extreme…

           “God, your temperature is at least two degrees higher than it ought to be,” he says, remember Parmak’s continuing instruction on Cardassian. “So tell me again what exactly the two of you were doing?”

           Silence greets him from Garak (surprisingly) followed a look passing between the two of them. Julian really doesn’t understand what all the fuss is when they’ve already had the “I used to be a nefarious spy- Parmak? Guls and Ancients Parmak couldn’t spy on a retired and blind Legate” talk. Probably Garak and more secrets and more nonsense, so Julian just sighs and wonders if perhaps he ought to just never leave the station again. _Right, Sorry, Commander, I know you need your Chief Medical Officer with you but I’m afraid my lovers who are certainly old enough to know better can’t seem to be trusted alone._

           “Really… I don’t even understand how the two of you have been living here all this time without an earlier incident the way you carry on,” Julian grumbles when Parmak elbows Garak in the side and _finally_ explains that the cerebral implant is provided to certain operatives and is only intended to be used in instances of torture to release a flood of endorphins and perhaps well after being there a while not supposing it would ever be used again (“I said, ‘Elim, we should take this as a sign that a change of profession is warranted even once we _do_ return home’”) and bored and a bit tipsy, they got the idea to start fooling around with it.

           “It’s really quite fascinating,” Parmak explains while Garak continues breathing like he’s going into labor. “We had found a way to ahh… modify the device so that it could control a slightly more varied array of functions and be activated remotely-”

           “Remotely,” Julian says flatly as his cursory scans are thankfully showing nothing beyond the increased respirations, temperature, blood pressure, but nothing beyond that and it doesn’t seem like anything that Parmak should need emergency assistance with.

           “Right, Ah and so we’re getting to the problem now. See the device was engineered by an old acquaintance of ours-” (translation- one of their other lovers) “-and it’s worked so effectively until now that-”

           Julian jumps as Parmak is cut off by a pained hiss, a yowl that sounds something akin to two cats in an alley all emanating from Garak’s throat. Garak, who Julian realizes stupidly as he looks closer is fully everted beneath the robe, scales flushed drak, swollen, hot not with fever but Julian is beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that Garak’s brain is not under duress, that his leukocytes are perfectly fine, and that this is all a matter of-

           “So you see, we’re not quite certain how to get it open and I assure you I’ve tried every driver, every key, every seal popper that we have and it’s been nothing but a fool’s errand.”

           And that’s when Julian takes a second look to Parmak now and realizes, that while he may be standing there in his professional lab coat, a look down reveals bare legs and his slippers, and Julian realizes that both of them have only thrown on the most careless layer of clothing. Garak moans again. Parmak hisses at him to stop being so dramatic. Julian feels his eye twitching as he looks back and forth between his two older (but certainly no more mature!) lovers.

“So let me get this straight. You called me here, postponing a delicate surgery on Morn’s hernia, because you broke the remote to your sex toy?”

           Garak looks about to say something smart but instead flops inelegantly on his stomach starting to rub against the couch cushion sounding pained.

           Parmak at least has the decency to look embarrassed as he explains that he thinks it may be the battery which normally recharges with a quick shake (that he demonstrates with an obscene jerking motion- because _of course_ , Julian why wouldn’t the battery recharge that way?) but notes that nothing is happening except Garak groaning louder and Parmak giving his ass a good swat and…

           And if Julian is being honest, pique, the humidity, Garak’s robe riding up, is starting to make it difficult to stay angry exactly, that emotion starting to twist to something a bit more primitive as he starts examining the dubious looking device (a twenty three centimeter long grey cylinder that’s suspiciously ribbed) realizing that this is honest to God beyond the supplemental engineering courses that he’d taken at Starfleet. Julian’s already turned the thing over a million ways and realizes it may have very well been sealed _not_ to open which begs the question of how is he supposed to repair it or even get a new one. Julian sighs.

Which means he’s going to have to talk to Miles.

God help him.

—

           “Alright, once more. Yer asking me to take a look at-”

           “The remote control,” Julian answers looking away, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “Right, for a device that you’d rather not say what it’s for…”

           “Right again.”

           “And you don’t know where it came from or who made it…”

           “Right?” Julian answers with an embarrassed cough. “But I…ah left my COM badge there so Kelas can let me know if it’s er… successful,” Julian mumbles pretending not the notice the _look_ that Miles is giving him.

           “Should I be wearing gloves for this?” Miles asks taking a second look at the gray cylindrical device. Julian feels his face heating up having counted on one hand the number of times in his life he’s ever pulled off a visible blush.

He’s positive that he’s bright red right now as one of the ensigns under Miles raises an eyebrow.

           “It’s a medical device!” Julian yells to a series of softly concealed snickers. Maybe he should’ve caught Miles at home or in private but it really _is_ an emergency so…

           “So the first problem is that the device is Romulan and they used one of their damn smelt sealers. So right away it’s gonna need to be popped, probably break the case but I can replicate something should hold the parts well enough. Problem is the caps the Romulans use are hard to come by _if_ that’s even what it is-” Miles continues as Julian just nods nods, unable to picture much else except that he’d left Garak moaning like an Algorian Mammoth in a biannual heat with Parmak clinically informing them both that they might need to perform an emergency operation if he remained everted longer than a few hours so Julian finds himself tapping his foot much to Miles’ poorly concealed annoyance.

           “Sure sure, whatever you have to do,” Julian rushes out to more irritated mumbling, his damn enhanced hearing catching every whisper of entitled CMO and how it probably _is_ a sex toy and it’s ludicrous that an officer’s sex life is more important than the food replicators which Julian bears all gamely as Miles tells him that is definitely _is_ one of the capacitors and he’s probably gonna have to talk to Quark and just how hard was Julian (it wasn’t me!) jerking the thing any way? “Like I said before,” Julian says with his most pleasant gritted teeth smile, “it’s not a-”

           “Yeah yeah but you see, it charges here by shaking it, which is amazing considerin’ it’s old tech or a mod of some old Earth tech they used to use with copper wire but yeah, Quark probably can get you something-”

           Julian hears him shouting “Yer welcome!” after him, already off and running.

—

           “So needless to say,” Julian finishes as Parmak curiously turns the [somehow even _more_ phallic looking] remote around in his hands looking at some of the extra buttons that weren’t there before like the vibrate that Julian swears wasn’t necessary to which Miles just snorted and said “yah sure it’s not”, along with the rotation of the upper half (Boq’ta’s contribution, Julian was cheerfully informed as he just nodded and graciously accepted the repaired device). Still, the transmitter was undamaged so once it was recharged, it was a simple matter to shut it off and lecture both his lovers on the dangers of messing around with such delicate things like the brain.

           Garak had merely answered as he sat rehydrating himself with a tall glass of water and an ice pack on his lap, that a life in exile was no life at all and there were stories of those who’d turned to far worse substance abuses than a little “harmless brain stimulation”. Parmak seemed to take exception to the “no life at all” comment but of course sided with Garak saying that Garak was under a doctor’s care after all, to which Julian snipped that he was a doctor who couldn’t even fix his own remote and that if anyone ought to know better that it was him.

           “You really scared me, you know,” Julian tells them both later, his head on Parmak’s lap enjoying strong fingers massaging his temples. “Please tell me you’re going to just deactivate the thing or at the very least stop using it for recreation.” He looks over at Garak’s who’s examining the remote speculatively, still toggling the different vibrate functions. He doesn’t miss the _look_ that passes between his two Cardassian lovers as they both solicitously vow that they absolutely will _not_ be indulging in any more reckless implant play.

Well, at least the new remote opens with a few small screws.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read these sooner [albeit with a few more typos and few additions] you can always follow me on tumblr to get the newest stories at cyrelia-j.tumblr.com


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